


sleep walk through the snow

by sugarlump



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sassy Dorian, Sleep Walking, dont mind cassandra she totally ships dorian and the inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarlump/pseuds/sugarlump
Summary: Sulahn Lavellan sleep walks, and Dorian loses track of him in Skyhold.





	sleep walk through the snow

Dorian took to the stairs leading down into Skyhold’s main courtyard two at a time, which might have been a little dangerous considering the hour and how groggy he still was. He could see his breath and, as he pulled up the fur coat he’d “borrowed” from the Inquisitor’s room, Dorian noticed how the early dawn still sat quietly below the horizon. It was just high enough to paint the sky a soft purple-blue, but low enough that it hadn’t completely illuminated the mountainside. Dorian observed the thickness which with his breath showed in the icy mountain air around him, making a mental note to have more of these — was this bear fur? — coats acquired for his next excursions into the icy wilderness. Which hopefully wouldn’t be anytime soon.

At the bottom of the stairs he planted his feet down and scanned the area. The guardsmen must have been switched out just recently, because these fellows didn’t look quite as much like they wanted to die as perhaps Dorian had seen in mornings past. An early morning shift was perhaps a fate worse than death, if not from the cold then from sheer boredom. There were a few others milling about on early-morning assignments: couriers juggling several folded letters; soldiers stretching to begin training with the wooden dummies; even Cassandra was up at this hour, though that really shouldn’t have surprised Dorian.

The mage crossed the grounds over to her in long strides, tugging up the furs again in a feeble attempt to protect himself from the sudden biting breeze, and cursed under his too-visible breath. He scolded himself for not putting on his armor proper before leaving the room in favor of light clothes, because he certainly was not expecting to be s _earching_ for anyone right now.

Seeker Cassandra pretended not to notice his arrival, dutifully at work relieving the wooden dummy of its limbs. Dorian thought this amusing and loudly cleared his throat.

Cassandra stopped, took a long breath, and released it before turning towards him. Her breath was equally thick and translucent in the dawning light, and even Dorian could see the extra layer of clothing under her armor.

“What is it, Dorian?” She said patiently, not bothering yet to sheath her weapon.

Dorian huffed. “Come now, Seeker. I’m not the worst thing you could be seeing at Andraste’s-tits-o’clock.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. Her weapon didn’t move.

“I’m a busy person, Dorian.”

“Ah yes, clearly. Those dummies won’t lobotomize themselves now, will they?”

A spark of something Dorian was too afraid to analyze ignited in the Seeker’s eyes, and she finally lifted her sword. Dorian did his best impression of a fish as she swatted the dummy beside her, slicing off the tip of its shoulder, her gaze never leaving his.

Dorian sighed dramatically, watching the wood splinters fall off the carving like a waterfall. “I’m looking for the Inquisitor.” He finally said, crossing his arms over himself.

Cassandra raised a sculptured eyebrow, only then sheathing her weapon. “What do you mean? Is he not in his quarters?”

“Seeing as how I have been there since last night, I can assure you he is not.” Dorian grinned triumphantly at the way Cassandra’s face contorted in a mixture of fleeting patience and obvious disgust. An excellent start to the day.

“And he left you no sort of note, I assume.” Cassandra said finally when she had regained control of her face, strolling towards the Herald’s Rest just a few paces away. Because, as Dorian followed, even the Seeker began to look a bit chilled, especially when the training routine that normally would have completely warmed her was interrupted (another triumph on Dorian’s part).

Cabot was busy finding every crack in the bar and attacking it with his cleaning towel before the tavern really opened for the day when they walked in, only acknowledging their existence with a glance up and an ever-present scowl. Immediately Dorian’s senses were filled with a concoction of burning pine in the fireplace and spiced- _something_ from the back of the kitchens. Dorian radiated towards the mantle and revealed his hands to the flames, sighing as the warmth set in. Dorian had never had the misfortune of getting this cold back when he lived in Tevinter, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.

The Seeker simply stood, arms crossed beside him, absorbing the warmth, and Dorian swore he saw some of the muscles in her shoulders relax.

“I have not seen the Inquisitor, no.” Cassandra started slowly, dark eyes fixated on the flames. “But, it has been a while since this happened, and I fear it may be worse than last time.”

Dorian’s eyes widened and he felt some cold dread seep into his bones, head whipping around to look more clearly at the Seeker. “Ex _cuse_ me? This? Happened before? I thought—I thought he had simply _wandered off_ to enjoy some freakishly early paper work, because you _know_ he would,” Dorian gesticulated, and Cassandra nodded ruefully.

“Dorian. You came to Haven shortly before the battle that destroyed it, did you not?”

Dorian blinked, and supposed with thought, he had, and nodded.

Cassandra closed her eyes. “I have been at the Herald’s side since this began.” Dorian suppressed the urge to bite his lip. He would never admit it, but after hearing her words and seeing her expression, Dorian was worried that Sulahn had not just gone for a gods-awful early morning stroll. “And I have… learned much, yet also so little, of him after all these months, especially during our first few at Haven. Most imminently important, his propriety for sleep walking.”

Ah.

Dorian moved his gaze back to the fire, stepping closer when a few soldiers came in and let in a brief and horrifying draft, the louts. Dorian had, in the past, heard rumors about the Inquisitor’s sleep walking habits, but had never witnessed them himself, especially since their relationship only became serious several weeks ago and he would be in closer proximity to the elf while he slept. When confronted with the acquisition, the Inquisitor only smiled in that completely sincere way he managed to keep up, and told Dorian he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, the damn beautiful elf.

Dorian wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it before.

“So, our Lord Inquisitor sleep walks. Not exactly a quality you might find in someone who sleeps as little as he does.” Dorian muttered, shuddering as another few people entered the tavern. Cassandra grabbed an iron rod and poked at the white ash that was formerly a log, and set it down to grab another hunk of wood and feed it to the hungry flames.

“That is it, though. When I brought this up with Josephine, she dove into her research and found, though there is little documented on the subject, that walking in one’s sleep may be caused by sleep deprivation itself.”

Dorian’s moustache twitched. “So perhaps it coming about again means…”

“The Inquisitor might be having trouble sleeping again, yes.” Cassandra sends a pointed glare his way, and Dorian lifts his hands in defense.

“Don’t blame _me_ for that! We sleep tend to sleep quite well afterwards, and as I would _love_ to go into great detail, I think finding our potentially-still-walking Inquisitor might be of more importance.”

Another sneer from the Seeker, but soon her eyes morphed in an odd fashion Dorian wasn’t used to—they softened. “I agree. I will aid you in looking for him. But, _just us_ , Dorian. I would not like any more rumors of this going around.”

“ _Please_ , Seeker. With someone as beautiful as me in the Inquisitor’s bed, it’s hardly fair to ask that the men not speak of us a _little_.” Dorian hummed, clicking his tongue with glee when the Seeker turned to him with something akin to murder in her eyes.

“Not _that_ , you—”

“ _I know_ , I know. Come on, I’d rather find him sooner than later. He owes me for the beauty sleep I’m losing this very moment.”

They left the Herlad’s Rest with all of their might, stepping back into the frozen breeze that was quickly picking up into a wind. There weren’t many clouds this morning, thank the Maker, so it was easy to see around Skyhold’s grounds, even with the sun still not completely breaking the surface of the mountains. They decided he could be anywhere, because Dorian really had no idea when he had left the room, and made their way down to the lowest level of the grounds. They casually asked watchmen if they’d seen the Inquisitor around because they had important, early morning business with him. When they gave no valuable information, Dorian and Cassandra headed for the stables, a place Sulahn frequented no matter the time of day.

“So, care to tell me of the Inquisitor’s first sleep walking excursion? I’m sure it was a shock, perhaps quite hilarious.”

Cassandra snorted. “I think that should be his story to tell, Dorian.”

Dorian made a mental note to interrogate his lover for this information when he was found, and peeked around the barn, noting the Inquisitor’s favored mount stirring to life, a stunning but simple honey-gold Hart the elf had taken to calling _Elgara_.

It meant ‘sun’ in Elvish, the Inquisitor informed him one day. And despite the relative simplicity of the mount, Dorian recalled on that day his heart practically launching into his mouth. Because, the Inquisitor looked to Elgara with such love and tenderness, stroking her snout, laughing a light and incredible sound when she licked his fingers for treats, with his own curls of autumn red hair reflecting the morning sun they stood in.

Dorian regarded the Hart with a small thanks for this memory, patting her snout as Cassandra joined him from searching in and around the barn.

“You haven’t seen the Inquisitor now, have you darling?” Dorian cooed, smile growing when the animal nudged into his hands, reaching over for his face. “Ah-ah. I’ve no treats, it’s hardly morning.”

Elgara huffed, sneezed and clopped her great hooves over the dirt. Dorian turned to Cassandra, who was trying her hardest not to look eternally confused, the dear.

“He’s not been around, she said.” Dorian decided, blowing a kiss to the Hart as they headed for the nearby staircase, the mage receiving another huff in response.

“Is that not the Inquisitor’s mount?” Cassandra asked carefully.

Dorian hummed knowingly. “Yes, though I _suppose_ you could say the same of myself—”

Cassandra scowled, pointing at Dorian with a somehow threatening finger when the man sent a wicked smile her way. “Do _not_ start, Dorian.”

Dorian sighed. “You’re absolutely no fun, Seeker, no matter what the Inquisitor tries to tell me.”

They searched the ramparts and the towers, the broken-down and the occupied, passing quickly through Commander Cullen’s office to the bridge leading back into the main hall. Skyhold’s grounds were huge and despite that they’d covered only a portion, Dorian couldn’t help the trickle of dread creeping back into his chest. Though it would be impressive if the Inquisitor _had_ made his way up here, seeing the many easy spots with which a sleep deprived, unconscious elf could fall was almost sickening enough to warrant another, longer stop at the tavern.

They stopped together on the bridge overlooking the upper grounds, and Cassandra turned to him.

“I suggest we split up. We can cover more ground.” Cassandra met his eyes only for a moment because—Dorian must be seeing things again, was that worry on her face?

“Anything you feel like telling me about the Inquisitor’s first sleep jaunt now that we’re actually not finding him?” Dorian tried, and glanced about in case the elf appeared out of nowhere.

Cassandra sighed deeply, setting her hands on her hips. “Nothing except that he was very hard to wake again, and was very disoriented. We had to piece together what happened from every witness, because he had no memory of what happened.”

Dorian’s lips twitched downward, suddenly feeling even more pressed to find the elf as soon as possible.

They split up, Cassandra taking the higher levels and Dorian searching the main hall and its rooms. The sun had finally peeked out from the mountains, casting a softly warm yet somehow harshly bright light upon them, Dorian’s own shadow stretching clear across the hall as he headed back to the Inquisitor’s room, just in case he’d returned.

He hadn’t.

Dorian searched the library, Solas’ office, even the Undercroft. With each new area devoid of the Inquisitor, Dorian allowed a little more panic to seep into his stomach _. Blast that elf,_ _where could he be?_

It was slightly less nippy as the sun continued to rise, and around him more and more people were waking. He was sorely tempted to say screw it to the Seeker and begin rousing a search party, because this was getting ridiculous.

“So cold. Freezing. So cold it pierces cloth and skin and bone. Cold. So very cold.”

Dorian yelped much like a terrified nug, spinning around to meet the tired voice behind him. Not the tired voice he wanted to hear, however.

Cole had, as always was the case with him, appeared out of nowhere and had absolutely no idea what personal space was. The still-waking residents of Skyhold had looked to the source of the rodent-like squeak with a sort of astonishment-turned-amusement, quickly going back to their business when Cole made himself known.

“So cold. Wants it to go away.” Cole muttered, eyes staring past Dorian like he was a ghost. Dorian shuddered, this time not from the morning chill.

“I’ll thank you not to do that again, please.” Dorian started, only met with Cole’s brow pulling together.

“Do what?”

“Nevermind. Dear boy, have you seen the Inquisitor? Or sensed him, or whatever it is you do.”

Cole’s eyes dilated then, his breath catching as he spoke. “It’s so _cold_ here. Why did it have to be here? Why now? So many things to do. So many choices. People. Places. Missions. Can’t deal with this today. Need to _not be so damn cold, it’s so cold, mana ma halani_ —”

Dorian took the spirit’s shoulders and squeezed perhaps too hard, snapping him out of his Elvish-daze, and Dorian didn’t bother to hide his expression because he knew Cole could see through it. Eyes wild with worry, he spoke softly but with haste.

“ _Where is he,_ Cole? Where is Sulahn?”

 

*

 

The garden had been Inquisitor Sulahn’ favorite spot in Skyhold since before it was finished being constructed. And when it _had_ finished installation of all the shrubs and flowers, and the stone benches and gazebo had been properly placed, the Inquisitor seemed to spend more time there than in his own room. He cared for the herbs and plants, made sure the flowers were trimmed and the benches clean of leaves, even though they had gardeners for that. Reminded him of home amongst all of this snow and mountain, he’d told Dorian one afternoon after a few games of chess that Dorian let him win.

Stepping into the garden, Dorian’s eyes scanned carefully every tree and bench, only finding a few residents milling about. No Inquisitor. No Sulahn.

He walked the area three times before retreating to one of the walls, cursing the wind, which picked up and swooped down into the gardens through leafy crimson trees before dissipating just as quickly. One would think such an enclosed space would be free from the harsh weathers of the mountains, but _no_ , it could never be that easy.

Dorian would not succumb to asking strangers for help just yet, checking each of the doors along the court yard’s walls and deciding that, if he still did not find Sulahn, _then_ he could fully panic, because that churning in his belly was definitely not from lack of breakfast.

The second-to-last door on the wall creaked so loudly Dorian swore it echoed through the rest of the castle. The room was its own, enclosed and with no other doors, long and thin like some sort of tiny, literally-a-hole-in-the-wall church. Furniture was strewn about and covered with tarps, the ceilings were infinitely high, and at the end stood an enormous mirror, half covered by another tarp. Light from the dawn seeped in through the windows on either side of the mirror, dust speckles floating gently through the streaks and providing proof of what Dorian’s nose already told him: this place was filthy and rarely used.

Stepping in, Dorian wasn’t even sure if he’d been here before. He pushed his curiosity aside, however, in favor of finding Sulahn, and sighed—still no wayward elf. Dorian considered recruiting The Iron Bull and his band of brutes to help, knowing that, perhaps even more so than the armies they lead, those Chargers would fight for Sulahn until their last breaths.

As Dorian turned to head back for the door, there was a sound, small and soft and _broken_. It tore Dorian’s heart in two as the mage turned around slowly to find the source of the song. A song Dorian _knew_ , because Sulahn taught it to him.

“ _Elgara vallas, da’len,_ ”

Dorian stepped forward and turned toward a pile of pews and chairs and dusty tarps.

“ _Melava somniar..._ ”

The voice, _his_ voice, stuttered and shook, as if it could collapse at any moment.

“ _Mala taren aravas_ ,”

He wasn’t even singing, just exhausted and torn Elvish in the general tune of the lullaby.

“ _Ara ma’desen melar...”_

Sulahn sat in a protective cave of stacked pews, in his night clothes clutching his knees, hair not even up in a partial bun—a very bad sign. Sulahn never stepped foot out of his room without putting up those wild curls, claiming they got in the way while he worked, or made him look too young in the face of his political responsibilities, or some other nonsense. Eyes precious and pure as emeralds were now puffy and red, and _Maker above_ , the man was shaking.

“ _Amatus_ ,” Dorian whispered, leaning down before the elf, hands cupping the Inquisitor’s freckled cheeks. “I’m here.”

Dorian wasn’t sure if Sulahn was still sleep walking (was he even sleep walking at all?), but as soon as Dorian’s skin touched his, the elf melted into a pile of shaky Elvish and sporadic apologies. Dorian tucked him in close to his chest, hushing him gently.

“It’s alright, Sulahn. You’re safe—I’m here, _amatus_.”

Dorian would get details when Sulahn settled down, but now Dorian knew one thing for certain: he never wanted to hear that Dalish lullaby so precious to his love sang so terribly sorrowful ever again.

 

*

 

“Ah, yes, I… I was indeed sleep walking. At least, I think I was. Rather certain I must have been, really.”

The accompanying blush that graced the Inquisitor’s cheeks would have been cuter if the circumstances were perhaps lighter.

When Cole finally told Dorian of Sulahn’s whereabouts, he’d sent the spirit boy off to inform the Seeker. And by _then_ , the Seeker had already found Varric, Iron Bull and Krem in the tavern and recruited them to aid the search. Their supposedly low-profile, search-and-retrieve mission ended up with the Qunari spy interrogating half the guardstaff, _who still knew nothing_ , Maker guide them, and most of the castle on lookout for their Inquisitor.

They would deal with the gossip of this incident, gossip that would no doubt spread like wild fire through Thedas, some other time, when their Inquisitor wasn’t shaking so uncontrollably and the tips of his ears weren’t such an interesting shade of purple.

“I am truly sorry,” Sulahn apologized again, casting his gaze downwards sheepishly. Dorian had promptly wrapped the man in the fur coat he had stolen, and as soon as the elf calmed, guided him to the nearest hearth for warmth. The moment he was less than frozen, Cassandra was to their side, sighing in immediate relief, and was calling off the search. She ushered them back to Josephine’s office, which sported its own impressive fireplace, and sat Sulahn down on a chair by his shoulders like he wasn’t one of the most powerful people in Thedas.

Which, looking at the red curls falling down his face, his cheeks pink with cold and embarrassment, all wrapped in a coat so big it had him looking more like a fuzzy caterpillar than a full-grown elf—

He just looked like what he tried not to be. Exhausted and stressed and very much mortal.

“You’re quite lucky I woke when I did, otherwise we might have had to come up with a more exciting tale of martyrdom than the Inquisitor freezing in his own home,” Dorian tried, leaning down beside the Inquisitor, who genuinely _smiled_ at him, Maker bless him. Fingers pale and much too slim emerged from their cocoon of warmth, _just_ to take Dorian’s hand.

Dorian squeezed them, offering his own smile.

“We would like to discuss ways to prevent this in the future, Inquisitor,” Cassandra started, gesturing absently to Josephine’s empty desk. “All of us. But for now, I think you need a little more rest. Dorian, I trust you can see to it he returns to his quarters?”

Sulahn’s face morphed in tired amusement as Dorian grinned.

“Quite right, Seeker, I have practiced it many a time.”

Cassandra just shook her head, sending the elf one last long look before exiting the office, leaving the two men alone.

“Did you see that? She didn’t even _try_ to berate me. Unheard of.” Dorian fixed his gaze back where it belonged, and Sulahn chuckled, a sound that still, after all these months, sent butterflies up Dorian’s throat.

“She was worried…” A shiver racked through the elf, and Dorian wasted no time in ushering the chair closer to the fireplace. “All of you were worried. I put you through such trouble. I’m so very sorry.”

A sigh escaped Dorian, who settled better on a footstool beside Sulahn, not releasing his hand for anything. “ _Amatus_ , there are things we sometimes cannot control. Your sleepwalking, for example, or my inconceivably dashing good looks.”

Sulahn sent him an unsatisfied look, still guilty, before looking back to the fire.

“Would you tell me the story, at least?” Dorian said, raising Sulahn’s hand to lightly pepper his knuckles with kisses. “The first time it happened. Since no one else seems to want to gossip about it to me, which is frankly insulting.”

That drew another smile from the Inquisitor, a gorgeous, fond smile. “Well… the _very_ first time it happened, I was still with my clan. But the first it happened when I was away from them, when I still hadn’t told anyone it was an, ah, issue of mine, was at Haven, shortly after we settled there.”

He paused and took a breath, which appeared more to do with the warmth in the air than anything, though Dorian swear he saw a flash of something uncertain in his eyes.

“It’s not very exciting,” The Inquisitor tried, eyes glancing about the flames of the hearth. But Dorian would have none of that, raising a finger and tapping it on Sulahn’s lips, drawing a surprised blinking from the other.

“Ah-ah. I want to hear the story and that’s that.” His face softened some, wrinkles shifted beside his eyes and creased his skin. His hand moved over to touch the elf’s cheek, thumb running over a brilliant sea of freckles. “If it’s about you, it matters all the more, Sulahn.”

The elf swallowed thickly at that, and when his face heated under Dorian’s hand, Dorian knew he had managed to break down a portion of that wall the elf always tried to build up, ever since he was named Inquisitor, since he was titled Herald.

“Well… Josie suspects it began with my hatred of the cold.” He started, and Dorian noted the way the elf tried to look anywhere but at Dorian. This would have hurt had Dorian not already knew of the man’s tells of anxiety, so he sat patiently, listening as the other struggled over his words. “As you know, of course. I’d rather brave the _Wastes_ than _any_ moment in the snow.

“It was shortly after we began to re-etablish the Inquisition. I remember fondly the banners unfolding, and Cassandra had this smile I’d never dreamed I’d ever see…” Sulahn smiled, and Dorian’s hand shifted from his cheek back to the elf’s hand. “Ah, regardless, I was still getting used to my new… living arrangements. Our first big storm swept through and absolutely _covered_ the place with snow.”

Another pause, another flash of guilt, and Dorian’s lips tugged downward.

“I slept in the Chantry with many others, but so many slept outside in the tents and the houses, in the cold... the guards and soldiers…”

“There was only so much room in that bloody building, _amatus_.” Dorian urged, snapping Sulahn out of his memory. He wouldn’t allow the man to get caught up in his guilt now, not when he almost froze to death. A quick squeeze of his hand brought him back to himself.

“Right, well, the storm lasted several evenings. It was… so dreadfully cold, _vhenan_. I didn’t sleep much at all those nights, even with the safety of the Chantry I could hear the winds, and… well, the rest I heard from the others. I don’t remember much of that night, not even dreams.

“Cullen was the one to find me. I was just outside the village, somehow I had left early before the sun rose…” He stopped as Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Much like… I had today, it would seem.”

“Right then, we keep an eye on you particularly in the mornings. I can do that much.” Dorian had meant it in some seriousness, but it still drew a breathy laugh from the other. Still a win on his part.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind…” Sulahn trailed off, eyes so lovingly fond as they gazed at Dorian. And well, after seeing that, Dorian just couldn’t help himself. Tilting the footstool as he leaned forward, Dorian embraced the elf in a kiss, a flame to melt away the snow. Long auburn lashes fluttered closed and Sulahn sighed into his lips, intertwining his fingers with Dorian’s.

They stayed like that for a while, just close and quiet and listening to the occasional crackle of the fireplace. Dorian payed close attention, all senses still on high alert. Minded every breath Sulahn took, every shiver that ran through him. Fortunately, good company tended to chase the chill away, and the Inquisitor’s skin returned to its normal shade of pale, his hands not so icy and sweaty, but warm and dry. Lashes fluttered as Sulahn’s body finally relaxed completely, head shifting to bury into the side of Dorian’s neck.

“Ah. What kind of rescuer would I be if I let you fall asleep here on this chair?” Dorian tutted softly, peeling himself out of the elf’s grasp. The little whine he received in response just about took Dorian down; he had to physically restrain himself from swooping the other in a passionate kiss because, well, the only thing holding him back was how sleepy Sulahn truly was. He settled for pulling the elf up onto two legs, intertwining their hands and guiding him back to his bedroom. Even with their proximity to each other, however, as soon as Sulahn was away from the fire, a shiver found its way back to him. Dorian frowned, hoping above anything this wasn’t the beginnings of an illness, but his fears were quickly assuaged when the gorgeous elf smiled, a ray of light through a canopy of cold and anxiety.

“It can’t just be me, right? Today must be extraordinarily cold.”

Dorian scoffed, shouldering open the bedroom door. “It’s always a toss-up between ‘colder than a petty Orlesian stare’ and ‘maybe a little warmer than the bottom of an ice filled catacomb.’ No in between.”

Having incapacitated the elf with an onslaught of laughter, Dorian took the opportunity to guide Sulahn down onto the bed, grinning triumphantly to himself. Carefully removed Sulahn’s shoes, glancing up at him through his lashes as the laughter died down, and only a pair of increasingly affectionate emerald eyes stared down at him.

“I’ve never had a problem about walking in my sleep twice in a row, but,” Sulahn paused as he sat up, scooting and tossing open the blankets with practiced movement. “it’s only precaution that you stay here and monitor me.”

Dorian clutched at his chest dramatically. “This is a sacrifice I’m willing to make—for the Inquisition.” Sulahn chuckled as boots were tossed aside, a coat unceremoniously thrown onto the sofa. “For the Inquisitor.” The faint smell of yesterday’s oils on his skin as Dorian crawled into the bed, wound himself easily into Sulahn’s embrace. “For you.”

“How fortunate I have such a devoted soldier in you.” Sulahn hummed, the lulls of sleep already pulling at his voice.

“Solider? Too common.” His hand found its way to Sulahn’s back, rubbing circles as he felt the gently inhale and exhale of breath. “I prefer right hand of the Inquisitor.”

Soft, unintelligible mumblings, an attempt at conversation as the other finally fell back into sleep, peaceful this time. Hopefully to stay that way. Dorian just watched, even as sleep began to tug at his own senses.

“Sleep well, _amatus_.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Dalish lullaby is really cute and I highly recommend looking up the rest of the lyrics, also there are some cool videos of people actually singing it and putting music to it, which inspired this a lot uvu Sulahn sings the first stanza, which translates to:  
> sun sets, little one,  
> time to dream  
> your mind journeys,  
> but I will hold you here.
> 
> Other elvish translations:  
> Sulahn - sing  
> Mana ma halani - help me


End file.
